With Time We'll Heal
by Niqsta
Summary: It's in the dark, quiet solitude of their bedroom, Squall and Rinoa comfort each other over their loss. Squall x Rinoa Oneshot. Can be read as post-game. Inspired by Emerald-Latias's 'Raindrops'.


**A/N: I'd just like to say there is a reason why I haven't added this one-shot to the Squinoa mini's (which you will figure out why once you read it). **

**Please be easy on me, I have no experience with this kind of thing and I've written it in Squall's prospective; a meagre attempt at what I'd feel if I were in such a situation.**

**-Niqsta**

* * *

**With Time We'll Heal**

I shut off the engine and clicked off my belt, but no sooner than I had the strap off my torso I could hear the passenger door open and Rinoa step out already. I followed in pursuit, quickly stepping out of the car to walk her to the door but it was for naught; I hadn't even locked the car before she had managed to open the front door to our home and step inside. I briskly walked to the door, trying to keep my distance but not be too far away either, though I currently found it hard since I was unaware of what she wanted.

She had already taken her shoes off and hung her coat on the coat rack along with her scarf and gloves. I wouldn't say her steps up the stairs were hurried, but they definitely weren't slow either. It seemed she just walked up the stairs in a determined manner without any hesitation to where she was headed or who was following.

I stood in the narrow hallway of our home with my jacket in hand, oddly unsure of whether I should be hanging it up or not. Of course I should; it wasn't like I was going anywhere and certainly not without informing her. Ignoring the thought, I hung my jacket on the coat rack and took off my shoes. Slowly, I headed up the same staircase and made my way over to the bedroom.

Within the time I was wavering downstairs, she had managed to change out of her clothes and into her pyjamas. The clothes she had worn outside were thrown into the dirty laundry basket though they were fresh out of the dryer this morning. I decided not to question the action.

I looked at the bed to see her already fully wrapped in the duvet, her head buried into her folded arms and her knees pulled up to her chest in the fetal position.

I just stood near the bed unaware of what to do next. I wasn't sure if I should give her space or lay down next to her. She hadn't eaten as far as I knew; a small bite of toast in the morning is hardly what I'd call a meal, she had also skipped lunch saying she wasn't hungry. It wouldn't be long before dinner either, only a couple more hours to go.

"Can I get you anything?" I asked, breaking the silence that had wrapped around ourselves since we'd gotten into the car.

She didn't reply at first, she had only stirred to acknowledge my presence.

"No," she finally whispered.

"You haven't eaten anything," I said concerned.

She didn't reply, she didn't even move. She just kept her back to me, looking completely lifeless.

I sat on the edge of the bed, facing her back. Still waiting, still hoping she'd do something, anything. I wasn't sure myself what I should be doing. I wanted to hold her… but I wasn't sure if she'd be alright with me touching her. I wanted to talk to her… but I was sure she wasn't up for a conversation either. And so I remained silent and still, hoping and expecting her to suddenly turn around and give me that cheeky smile. Naturally, she didn't.

With the nagging thought that she hadn't eaten tugging at my mind, eventually I got up and mentioned I was going to put dinner on. She didn't answer. I wanted to ask her if she wanted anything in particular, but I was afraid she still wouldn't respond so I made my way over to the door.

"Squall?" I heard her softly call out once I had stepped into the hallway.

"Yeah?" I quickly popped my head through the opening of the door in hope she'd call me back into the room and ask me to hold her.

Looking into her dark swollen eyes and her bleak expression, it made me painfully aware of the contrast from her usual self.

"Close the door," she said blandly, lowering her head back to the pillow.

* * *

It wasn't much and I wasn't much of a cook either, but tinned soup seemed to be a good choice of food. I mean it has all the nutrients and vitamins that keep the body healthy, people can go a long way with a good tinned soup. Many books and medical pamphlets always show illustrations of sick people being fed soup, so it had to be the correct thing for this situation.

Shaking my head, I cursed myself for my ignorance. Sure I had read a lot of manuals and text books thinking that they would help me deal with any situation. But it was all in vain. No amount of textbooks or pamphlets could instruct me on this situation.

The soup had over boiled and I quickly took it off the stove. Staring at it, I couldn't help but feel it was an indication of how uneducated and inexperienced I really was.

It didn't feel like nearly enough time had passed before I found myself up in the room once again. Placing the tray full with tinned soup and a bread roll down on the bedside table, I hovered over her body. I wasn't sure whether to lightly shake her, I wasn't even sure if she was asleep. I outstretched my hand out towards her but paused as I got to her shoulder. I didn't want to over do it. If she needed distance I'd give her that. At least one thing I could relate to from my own experiences was the need for solitude and time to think.

I pulled my hand back and took a silent breath.

"Rinoa," I soothingly called out to her, "I got you some soup."

She let a small breath out through her nose but kept her back to me.

"I'll eat it later," she said before pulling the duvet up higher.

* * *

Hours later, I found myself putting the phone down on the table and looking at the clock in front of was nearly approaching ten and Rinoa still hadn't come down stairs. I wanted to check up on her an hour ago, but the string of calls from friends and family kept me away, kept on forcing me to try to find an answer to the same old question over and over.

The only problem was I never did have an answer to give anyone, not even myself. So finding no other alternative, I had given the answer _'We're there for each other'_ which I know was probably a reiteration of something I had read from a pamphlet.

But even as the words left my mouth I felt as if it were a lie. I didn't feel as if I was there for her, there was nothing I could do to make it better. I couldn't experience what she was going through and I damn sure couldn't relate to the pain she was feeling.

My heart was aching for what I didn't have, what I didn't get to experience and what I didn't get to enjoy which I was certain was pale in comparison to what she was feeling. Her heart was aching for a whole different reason that I could not comprehend. Worst of all, there was not a single damn action that I could perform to bring back what she had lost.

I could feel my eyes prickling with moisture and my throat tightening. I didn't know whether I should let the emotion have its way or suppress it for her sake. It seemed every action, every thought and every feeling in my body underwent over-analysis. I wasn't sure what I was to do anymore since I was questioning everything for her. I didn't want to do anything that would cause her any more distress or hurt.

Lowering my head to the carpeted floor of our living room, I silently looked at the small patterns on the fabric only to notice it change just as soon as I started looking.

_Drop. Drop. Drop._

I had stained the carpet and I cursed myself for the expression of weakness.

Sliding a hand across my eyes, I wiped away the traces of tears. I took a deep breath through my nose and gently released it. Looking at the time once more, it was now half-past ten and she still hadn't come down yet.

Again, I found myself questioning whether I should go check on her or allow her the liberty to decide if she wanted my company. It wasn't long after before I found myself realising that in fact I was probably in need of her company more .

I was and would still be her pillar of support, but it was in this hour of time alone in the quiet tick-tock of the living room that I also needed her support. I had no understanding, no comprehension of how to deal with this, not that I expected her to tell me. I was sure she herself didn't know. I just didn't know how to handle it or how to handle her behaviour. It was selfish of me to think it, but after already losing something so great, I couldn't bear to let myself lose another.

Trying my best to ignore the lump in my throat, I kept having to remind myself that I was supposed to be there for her; that it wouldn't be right for us both to be emotional. I took each step slowly up the stairs, telling myself that I had to be there for her, that she just needed time. That eventually time would heal.

_Please God, let us heal._

I took another deep breath outside the bedroom before carefully opening the door. The room had grown darker since I had been in here last. The curtains weren't even drawn allowing the glow of the yellow street light outside to flow through. The soup I had prepared for her was left stone cold and untouched.

I couldn't explain what it was doing to me. She hadn't eaten and it bugged me that it was all I could think about. Of course she couldn't eat; I doubt anyone in her position would be thinking about food right now. But it did, it really affected me that she wasn't even eating, that she lay there in the same position since we'd walked into the house and hadn't moved.

I knelt down on the floor while resting my elbows on the bed. Once more, apprehensive thoughts filled my mind.

Do I wake her? Do I call her name? Should I touch her?

So many unsure questions revolving around whether or not I was doing the right thing by her. Who knew it would be so hard? Who knew that even after so long I still had no knowledge of how to be around her?

"Rinoa," I found myself whispering, my voice cracking from the emotion.

My eyes were downcast at the bedspread but I heard her move about. From the slight vision I had of her, I could see she had turned to face me but I was unsure of whether she could see me. She didn't say anything or even move after she had faced me. I kept my eyes on the bedspread unsure of what to say next or whether what I wanted to say was the right thing.

Eventually, I looked up to her.

I don't think she expected it, but I couldn't hide it and I couldn't suppress it any longer.

"Please Rinoa," I whispered, my voice tight from the sentiment. "I know I can't imagine what you're going through or how you're feeling. I know how hurt you are to have… something like that taken away," I managed to say though my tears were making it difficult.

I swallowed hard and sniffed, still looking at her as my tears continued to pour down.

"Please Rinoa, I know you can't pretend nothing has happened… I know you can't go back to acting normal, but please… don't push me away," I vehemently pleaded to her, taking her hand and bringing it to my lips.

She looked at me hard in the eyes and I could see from the small amount of light seeping in from the streets outside that her eyes were far from dry. It wasn't long before those same eyes welled up and tears trailed down her cheeks as well. She swallowed hard and I could almost see her throat retract from the yellow patch of light reflecting off her skin.

She opened her eyes and looked at me again almost in desperation before she managed to speak.

"He was so small," she whispered and let out a hushed sob.

I held her hand tightly, clasping it against my chest for dear life. I didn't know who I was supporting or whether my grasp on her was for her sake or mine; all I knew was that at that point, we both needed each other and this initial contact was the first step. I nodded my head wanting her to continue, to speak to me no matter how hard it was.

"It's not fair; I carried him for six months but never got to hold him," she said in between sobs. "I never got to hear him cry."

I climbed on top of the bed and lay down next to her, wrapping my arms around her protectively and placing in a couple of kisses on her forehead. She latched on to me, clasping onto my shirt and burying her head into my neck. I could feel the droplets of her tears against the bare skin of my neck as she continued to sob and shudder in my arms.

I didn't even bother to question whether I should have let her see me cry, I knew it was something I couldn't suppress at this point even if I tried.

"I didn't even get give him a name," she cried against me and slowly I started to feel her pain.

I couldn't relate, not one bit. I hadn't carried him, I hadn't felt his touch, and I hadn't felt his heartbeat. Only she had.

I couldn't bring him back, I couldn't make the pain go away and I certainly couldn't and didn't want her to forget. The only thing I could do was hold her in my arms, cry along with her and pray to God that eventually with time we'll heal.


End file.
